


Support Structure

by Kiss_Shining



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Comrades, Implied Romance, Light Angst, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, Offhand Fic, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2020-05-29 13:34:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19401358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiss_Shining/pseuds/Kiss_Shining
Summary: A few snapshots about how Vegeta displays depression and Goku…doesn’t. That doesn’t mean that they aren’t aware of each other, though.





	Support Structure

**Author's Note:**

> (Edit: Changed the name to better suit the story.)

**Penance**

He didn’t mean to listen, not really. What Vegeta did was his business, but…for some reason, he still found himself eavesdropping anyways.

Four weeks into their impromptu stay-in together—as in, Vegeta and Goku training under the same roof and space on Beerus’ rather uncomfortably small planet—Goku happened to notice something strange. It wasn’t as if he particularly minded where Vegeta went at night, but it nagged him a bit, mainly because, well, he wanted to get training, too! If Vegeta was doing the same thing that he did to get himself into Beerus’ planet in the first place—if he was getting extra training without Goku—then he wanted to know about it. He was always up for sparring a bit more, even if those weights that Whis made them wear were a pain. That one goal of possibly catching Whis and Vegeta in the act and getting in on the action motivated Goku enough to lower his ki as low as it could go, ravel the blankets up into a ball, and tip-toe out the room. He considered springing up on Vegeta, but if he was somewhere that Beerus could easily hear him and wake up from his slumber, well…

It was probably better to do things the old fashioned way.

Goku followed Vegeta’s wildly pulsating ki until he reached a separate, remote room several feet away from where they slept, and then he watched. Vegeta was, like he thought, training. But there was no sign of Whis anywhere, and he felt a wave of disappointment wash over him. Still, Vegeta was more than enough as a sparring partner. If he felt restless enough to work out in the middle of the night, then he might take Goku up on a match or two before he tried to convince him to retire for the night. He was going to call out to him, but out of nowhere, Whis beat him to it.

“If you push yourself too hard, you’ll get the opposite of what you desire,” Whis said, disapproval clear in his voice, and Vegeta froze in his stance, whirling around to where Whis was standing. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, clearly not expecting him, before his brain finally caught up with his body, and he composed himself.

“Whis-sa—”

“And you’ve been doing this for a while now,” Whis continued, almost as if Vegeta never spoke at all. “Do you think you’ll get stronger by overcompensating and taxing out your body? You need to rest.”

With a huff, Vegeta relaxed his stance, wiping the copious amounts of sweat from his forehead. He grimaced, but he made no movement to continue.

“I’ve rested enough.”

“I’d say not enough, actually. When was the last time you’ve gotten a full eight hours’ worth of sleep? Or even six hours? Or even _three_?”

Vegeta couldn’t give him a definitive answer, and Goku leaned off of the wall. If Vegeta was going to get a lecture from Whis, then Goku was sure that Vegeta wouldn’t appreciate it too much if he happened to find him lurking around. He hated being humiliated, after all. Goku turned around and was three steps away when something else he said caught his attention.

“Punishing yourself won’t get rid of what you’re feeling, Vegeta-san.”

And just like that, Goku couldn’t just walk away. He knew that he had no right to listen in, that it really wasn’t any of his business, but if Vegeta really felt that way and he’s always felt that way—if he’s been taking Goku’s punches without dodging because he wanted to do some sort of twisted form of penalization to himself—then…then…

Then nothing. Nothing would change. Even if Goku tried, what could he possibly say to dissuade him from continuing—whatever this was? He wasn’t sure if it was the entire reason, but at least half of the reason Vegeta ever pushed himself so hard was because of Goku. To hear words of solace from the person he wanted to beat the most would turn into nothing more than scorned words of pity in Vegeta’s ears.

And it wasn’t like the feeling was foreign to him.

He ended up leaning back up against the wall, eavesdropping on the both of them with only a smidgeon of guilt, waiting for something. He couldn’t put a finger on it. There was some deep craving to hear something, to feel something through Vegeta, something that could he could vicariously benefit from…

But Whis just scolded him, shooing him out insistently, and Goku quickly teleported back into their shared room, settled under the blankets, pretending to be asleep. Five minutes later, Vegeta silently walked into the room and closed the door, not even glancing at him before settling into his own bed.

There was a moment of tense silence before Vegeta finally spoke.

“You’re a terrible actor, Kakarot.”

Slowly, Goku sat up with a sheepish laugh.

“Can’t say I have a talent for it.”

“Yes, well. You don’t have a talent for most things, unfortunately.” The bite was weak, but Goku paid it no mind.

The next morning, the both of them sparred like they usually did. And if Vegeta seemed to be a bit more aggressive, if he seemed to hit Goku a bit harder and demand to be hit harder in return, Goku didn’t really draw attention to it. In the end, Goku could only help as much as Vegeta would let him. And Vegeta wasn’t a man who would simply roll over and accept help from anyone, especially him.

But at the very least, Goku would be on the lookout for him. For Vegeta’s sake, it would be better if he didn’t lose to himself.

* * *

Kakarot was many things.

He was an idiot, above all else. He must have hit his head so hard that all of his common sense leaked out of his ears and onto the floor. It was the only explanation for some of the absurdly asinine stunts that he pulled sometimes that, strangely enough, miraculously managed to pull everyone through. Or perhaps he was simply that lucky. His way of arriving at the last minute yet still managing to make everything work out never failed to grate Vegeta’s nerves.

He was naïve, annoyingly so. Along with his glaring naivety was his downright sickening innocence at all the worst times. (And yet he knows all about those ridiculous dirty magazines. Add paradoxal to Vegeta’s growing list of complaints about him.) He was selectively forgetful. Or maybe he just had that much of a one-track mind when it came to fighting, which _would_ have been a redeeming quality if he took his battles seriously. Worst of all, he was too trusting, trusting enough to spare someone like Vegeta, a man that at one point wouldn’t have hesitated to stab his fist into Kakarot’s chest and drink his blood. As far as Vegeta was concerned, there was no shortage of complaints or insults that he could ascribe to him.

He had never thought that it was possible for someone to be so foolish and complex, but Kakarot pulled it off quite well. Funnily enough, his pathetic little human friends didn’t even know. Vegeta himself had an inkling of suspicion during the Cell Games, but he chalked it up to instinct and his inane nature. But his refusal to return back to the planet that, just not too long ago, he died to protect, gave Vegeta some pause over the seven years that he was living in his head. Only recently was he able to confirm it.

Shortly after the defeat of Frieza—of which a slimmer of humiliation crawled into his chest when he heard that Frieza was planning on destroying the planet and that Whis and Kakarot had to undo the mistake that he unknowingly made, or perhaps, even more embarrassingly, that Whis chose to use the death of Earth and his folly as a lesson to Kakarot—that crazy woman threw yet another party at Capsule Corp. As if she needed more reasons to drink herself to oblivion. But it was no business of his if she decided to drown away one of the few attractive features she had about her. He was only concerned that she would drag him into that mess like she sometimes did, most times under the pitiful guise of “bonding” and “fellowship.” As if he needed such a thing.

As if he deserved such a thing.

Of course, that never stopped her from whining in his ears until he begrudgingly gave in.

During this party, that buffoon was at the center of attention, jovially reminiscing about another useless anecdote that was sure to be the talk of the town once everyone dispersed. Vegeta laid down in a corner, far enough away that he could actually breathe for once, but close enough that he could hear the tail ends of their conversations. Much as he hated to keep an ear out, there wasn’t much else to do around here. The Namekian wasn’t faring too much better, although he was at least somewhat entertained by Gohan’s offspring.

They had said something, though, something that perpetually grabbed Vegeta’s attention—and something that Vegeta has even prided himself on doing, if only to get under Kakarot’s skin—that led to Kakarot’s nature coming into play. Kakarot had been on another planet, and as always, he had no sense of tact, no sense of self-awareness, no sense of danger or anything, and he had ended up offending the planet’s king, who treated it as treason. But with the luck of the gods, Kakarot had turned it into his favor, and of course, as always, he won the heart of that king. His friends said what they usually did.

“That’s just like you, Goku.”

“How are you so oblivious when it comes to anything else but fighting?”

“You really are amazingly empty up there, aren’t you, Son-kun? But that’s what makes you unique.”

They were backhanded compliments, some of them just downright caustic, but Kakarot laughed with them, wholeheartedly agreeing with them. He always seemed to, and at one point, Vegeta had thought it was because he knew where he stood and was fine with it. He knew he was stupid, so he accepted their soft jabs. At that time, Vegeta thought it just fine, because he _was_ an idiot, and he would never hold his tongue to spare Kakarot from the truth. But that wasn’t it at all. He accepted such treatment because, similar to how Vegeta couldn’t stop pushing himself beyond his limits because he needed to feel the pain and the aches to remind himself of what a failure he was—he couldn’t defeat his worst enemy a first, second, or third time, he could never really get a true edge against his rival, and he could never protect the things that were important to him—Kakarot was the same way. He accepted their insults because he _knew_ he was a failure and he was fine with it. He resigned himself to it.

After that wretched fusion, all of Kakarot’s mistakes were grounded into a fine powder and scattered throughout Vegeta’s mind, from past to then. King Piccolo was the spark. His friends died because he wasn’t strong enough. He allowed them to get killed, he allowed his guardian to die, and he allowed the world to be destroyed. He allowed it because he wasn’t strong enough, because he wasn’t competent enough. He was stupid because he couldn’t think of a way to save them the first time. He was oblivious because he never noticed that _he_ was the danger all along, that _he_ was the bane, that _he_ was the alien. If they wanted to insult him, then that was fine. He was a failure, and until he obtained absolute power, he would continue to be so.

Those were the thought that flowed into Vegeta’s head after they separated. But Vegeta had simply put it in the back of his mind because while he knew there was something up with Kakarot, that couldn’t be it. That wasn’t like him to bear such guilt, such contrition, such remorse. The things that happened in his life slid off of him like water on a duck’s back. He was moved by nothing.

But he was. He simply had no inclination to show it.

After he and his friends had a good laugh at his expense, Kakarot went on his usual irritating speech about how there was someone strong on that planet and how he wanted to meet more strong people in the future, and someone asked a very logical question of: “What would you do if you meet someone much stronger than you?”

He said something that resonated with Vegeta.

“Man, I don’t even know…I’d love to fight them, though! I’d want to keep fighting until one of us drops.”

They laughed it off, probably thinking he was joking, but Vegeta immediately realized that he was serious. He realized that _that_ was the reason why he always sought out someone stronger. Protecting his loved ones was certainly high on the list, checking out his own strength was definitely noted, and the thrill of fighting was something that wasn’t negligible to a Saiyan, but even more than that was a reason that Vegeta found much too easy to identify with.

Perhaps he was more alike with Vegeta than he initially thought.

* * *

**Rue**

It was a few months since Black was defeated, but the bittersweet taste was still in the air.

By the time they came back the last time to seal away Zamasu and Black, Trunks was on his last leg. And then, as if they were thrown in the past, Trunks suffered one last shot to the heart before he died. They hadn’t made it on time, and disregarding her own safety, Bulma had screamed and ran over to him. Vegeta was paralyzed. Like that time when Goku had died and Cell had come back one more time and killed Trunks, he stood still. And then his rage finally bubbled over and he attacked Cell furiously. Cell hadn’t died, but Goku’s respect grew for Vegeta in leaps and bounds. Vegeta always amazed him, no matter how much time passed.

When Trunks died that time, he acted no different. He yelled, throwing everything he had into his attacks. Goku soon joined in, and after a long, grueling time, after trying so many different things, they finally defeated the both of them, sealing them away for eternity. Goku might have been happier at their accomplishment had it not been for Trunks. Because Trunks wasn’t from their time, and the Dragon Balls were already destroyed. Their weakness costed them, and Trunks could never be restored using normal means. Thankfully, Beerus and Whis were feeling generous enough to point them in the right direction, and they used the Super Dragon Balls of their present time to fix the future. It was a happy ever after. Or should have been.

Goku wasn’t the type of person to dwell on those types of things. As far as he was concerned, if he failed, it was because he was too weak to succeed. The best way to fix that would be to become stronger for the next time so he could really protect what was important. After the first or second death that slipped through his fingers, the guilt that weighed down on him was the same. The guilt was the same, but…somehow, the anger increased. It grew and grew until he just yielded to the unbreakable habit of chasing after a greater power, a greater strength, and a greater enemy. But that was fine. He just needed to keep training to keep up with his cravings, that’s all. There was nothing that he could do about the past; it was already behind him. He already made the mistake, and fretting about it did no one any favors and personally made his head hurt.

Vegeta was different.

Goku could tell. He didn’t need to be a mind-reader to know what Vegeta was thinking; he was pretty predictable, all things considered. And after they spent those months training together, living in the same room, cleaning in the same area, doing all the same activities as if they were one person again, Goku understood Vegeta even better than he had before, which was amazing considered he knew quite a bit about him. So he picked up on certain things.

Whenever Vegeta made a mistake, he thought about it. He thought and thought and thought until he was so far in his head that he couldn’t escape, and because he couldn’t escape, he brought others down with him, too. That was how Goku could always tell when something was bothering him: the more he snapped at others was the deeper in those thoughts he was in. People didn’t see that, though. They just thought he was being a selfish prick or a stuck-up douche, and they disliked him for it.

Like now.

“Vegeta, do you really have to be that much of a jerk about it?”

Vegeta folded his arms together and leaned against Capsule Corp’s dome.

“I’ve told you several times that I wasn’t interested in seeing that boy, yet you keep pestering me about it.”

Bulma huffed, ignoring Krillin’s feeble attempts to placate her, marched up to Vegeta, and jabbed a finger into his chest. “He’s _your_ son, for God’s sake!” Then, regaining what little patience she seemed to have, she stepped back once, patted his arm, squeezing it once before she let go.

“I get that you’re upset about what happened before, but its fine now. He’s fine now, and we promised that we’d all come see him at least once after everything settled down.”

Vegeta bristled, his hands tightening into fists at his sides. “Who said I was upset? If that boy was too weak to even stay alive for a few measly seconds, then perhaps it would have been better if he had died.”

Everyone who was there—Bulma, Krillin, Piccolo, and of course Trunks—froze at his callous comment. To them, it was like he reverted back to how it was almost a decade ago, back to the heartless bastard that chased after immortality and only kept them alive so he could use them to further his goals, but that wasn’t it at all. Vegeta glared at all of them, daring them to fight with him on it, even Trunks, who looked so disheartened after hearing those words—although he had averted his eyes rather quickly when it came to him—and when he happened to look at Goku, he closed his eyes and tilted his head down.

“How could you—? You were the one who wasn’t strong enough to protect him!”

 _That_ hit a nerve harder than any insult Bulma could have thrown at him, and he became paralyzed. Right before Goku’s eyes, he saw Vegeta finally becoming overtaken by his demons, the light fading faster in his eyes than it did Trunks’. His breath became shallow, and he wasn’t looking at anything, not Bulma, not Trunks, not anyone. He was drowning, but Bulma was too angry to realize, and everyone else just didn’t know. And Goku wasn’t sure how much longer he could go without air before he broke. He ended up stepping forward and grabbing Vegeta’s arm before he could think twice about it.

“C’mon Vegeta, don’t be so uptight!” He grinned at him, and like Goku thought, Vegeta slowly began to come back to his senses. He tugged his arm out of Goku’s grip, but that was fine. He accomplished his goal anyhow. “I’m sure that Trunks would love to see you. Maybe we could all spar after we catch up.”

“Are you deaf? I said I won’t go.”

“Not even for a little?”

“No.”

“Just an hour.”

“I refuse to repeat myself again.”

“But Vegeta—”

“For the love of God, Kakarot—”

Goku kept at it until he convinced Vegeta to come with them to see his future son. Vegeta could brood all he wanted, but it wouldn’t change the inevitable. Trunks had died because they both were too weak, which was why they needed to get stronger. That’s all. But he knew that Vegeta wasn’t like him, so Goku would gladly pull him out whenever he needed it. Once Vegeta caught on—if he hasn’t already—he probably won’t appreciate it, but Goku would rather that than the alternative.

As it turned out, Trunks really was happy to see him, because the first thing he did was run towards him and give him the tightest embrace Vegeta’s probably ever received in all of his life.

His present son, on the other hand…well. Goku was sure Vegeta would eventually comfort him one way or another in that indirect way of his.

* * *

For Vegeta, some days were a pain to simply get out of bed. It wasn’t too often, but it did happen.

On those days, his wife knocked on the door a bit harder than she usually did, a bit more incessantly than she usually would have. She would reprimand him for staying locked away in his room for so long, as if he were some toddler that needed scolding. It irked him to no end because it wasn’t as if he was holed up in his room under the blankets like how he’s read about in some of those books of hers. He simply needed time alone to organize his thoughts, and on other days, she seemed to understand that he needed his space. But sometimes she didn’t, and he hated how inconsistent she was.

Today was one of those days, and his head pounded to the beat of her knocking.

“Vegeta, I know you’re awake in there.”

He refused to answer her, and she sighed. She opened the door, opening her mouth to give him another unnecessary lecture, and moments later, Kakarot materialized out of thin air, just like that, no warning, no anything. She froze for a moment, and Vegeta scowled. Did this man have even a shred of decency or decorum? How could he just barge into their personal bedroom as if it was his own?

But as always, Kakarot didn’t seem to care. He seemed excited for the three of them as he sauntered up to Vegeta and Bulma with a disgustingly cheerful smile that Vegeta was just itching to rip off. He really, really, _really_ wasn’t in the mood for him today.

“Oh great, you’re both here. Listen Bulma, I really need to borrow Vegeta for a little while. That’s okay, right?”

Before Bulma could respond—and Vegeta was sure that she would probably respond favorably; it was no secret to either of them that Kakarot had more than a sweet spot in her heart, much as he hated to admit it—he shot it down.

“No. Ask someone else.”

Kakarot tilted his head, almost as if he couldn’t understand why someone couldn’t just pick up and leave everything when he said to. Did he think himself a god above everyone else that they had to follow his beck and call? Ridiculous.

“But why not? You’re not doing anything right now, are you?”

“That isn’t the point. You can’t just waltz into someone else’s house and expect them to drop everything _just_ to spar with you.”

He didn’t seemed discouraged in the least; he simply laughed it off and grabbed his wrist. And then, as if Vegeta hadn’t even spoken in the first place, Kakarot had the audacity to speak directly above him, as if he wasn’t even important enough to dignify with a response.

“I promise I’ll bring him back in a little bit.” His grip tightened slightly when Vegeta flexed his arm, fully prepared to wrench his arm away. For a brief moment, when Vegeta glared at him, he saw something in Kakarot’s eyes that gave him pause, and he relaxed a fraction. He was excited, by all means, but he was impatient. He wanted something. That something that Vegeta could identify as the craving he had when he slept an hour a day on Beerus’ planet. That something that Kakarot sought out stronger enemies for.

Vegeta finally pulled his arm away, and he took a moment to revel in the disappointment in Kakarot’s face. And then he placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Hurry up and go before I change my mind.”

And just like that, Kakarot’s expression was as giddy as it was before, if not more so. He quickly teleported them to somewhere in the mountains, released Vegeta, and started bouncing on the tips of his toes. Despite his reluctance before, he found himself unfolding his arms and getting into his own battle stance. He waited until nature gave its signal and then he lunged forward, transforming into a Super Saiyan and his rival doing the same, and he punched as hard as he liked to be punched. He goaded him on in hopes of beating his own demons away, and Kakarot fed off of that, smirking briefly before ascending once more. They battled for hours until sunset finally came and they collapsed next to each other a great distance from where they started.

As soon as they caught their breath, Kakarot was the first to ruin the silence.

“I asked Piccolo to spar with me, but he didn’t want to because he said he couldn’t keep up with me. Gohan can’t do it because of school. Krillin can’t do it because of work. And Goten…” he let out a dry laugh. “Chichi won’t let Goten out of her sight now. Not that I can blame her. He did die and all.”

Vegeta didn’t say anything, and he continued.

“It must have hurt a lot when Trunks died, hadn’t it? No matter how strong we get, and no matter how much we think that we’re used to seeing our family and friends and innocent people die, when it’s someone that you didn’t think it would happen to, it just throws you off balance. You know?”

Ah. Kakarot was guilty about the death of his youngest son. Like he had been. He could profess to “take things as they come” all he wanted, but a pot hole appeared out of nowhere and made him stumble. And while he didn’t visibly seem upset, the fact that he told Vegeta this much meant that it weighed on him heavier than he let on. His wife probably unknowingly made it worse, and the anger he had towards himself built until he channeled his regret into fighting. He needed to feel the pain that his youngest had, and there was only one person who could do that, the only person who could understand _why_ to do that.

Vegeta wasn’t his last choice; he was his only choice.

“Have you sparred enough?”

Kakarot laughed, sitting up. “I can never fight enough, you know that.” His smile slowly dropped, and he added, “But if you mean about Goten, then no. He was crying for a few days after he was brought back to life with the Dragon Balls. Pretty sure that no matter what I do, I’ve got nothing on that.”

“I see.”

The cycle would repeat once more, then.

So be it.

**Author's Note:**

> Depression is something that I think has a common base, but takes many forms, depending on who it is. You can feel the same thing as someone else, but act in a completely different way than they did. I wanted to do something like that. I understand it's far-fetched. I might add an OOC tag later if needed.
> 
> The VG vibes in this are small enough that you could probably blow it over with a feather, but I figured I'd rather be safe than sorry.


End file.
